Chapter Three

My eyes swept across the blue and one word came to mind: whoa.

Clearly, I wasn't one of the people in charge of copy at Whitmore and Creighton. If I was, I would have had something epic to say, something lyrical to describe what this felt like. What it felt like to have Jacob Whitmore look at me like I was magic.

What it felt like to know that I'd get to see that look for the rest of my life.

I reached for the sunscreen in the wicker basket, perched in the sand beside the most comfortable beach chair ever created. Heck, calling it a 'beach chair' didn't even fit. Beach chairs were the aluminum and plastic things that I used to drag from the trunk, preparing myself for the workout ahead. Without fail, I'd be sweaty and overheated before I even popped the thing open, dropping everything in a pile.

My fingertips stopped just short of the tube as I left the memory in the past, drinking in the awesome now. If you would have told me that someday I'd have a beach and Jacob Whitmore all to myself, I wouldn't have believed you.

But this wasn't a dream. Wasn't a fantasy that would be ripped away when my eyes sprang open.

I was wide awake.

And this chair felt freaking delicious.

I caressed the smooth fabric that covered the mahogany wood. Sighed as I ground my bottom, still tender from a twilight spanking from Jacob, into the ruby red cushion.

A dull ache from tweaking the spot flitted over me. The lashes of pain didn't compare to the ecstasy that made me call out to God I don't know how many times. I remembered how just as I was gearing up to say the word that would end the session, I whispered his name and he'd scooped me into his arms. Kissed it better in a way that had made me press my thighs together, an erotic flutter dancing through my core.

Just to be safe, I pinched myself.

The sting reminded me that this fairytale wasn't fiction. Fantasy tasted like reality. At any moment, animated bluebirds would start flitting about. Music would spring out of nowhere at all. My swimsuit would be traded for some sparkly number and glass slippers. But unlike the storybook, there was no clock that would chime at midnight, making it all go poof.

This was my life now.

I had a new last name.

I shielded my eyes from the sun, gazing out into the crystal blue water. Last night we swam beneath the stars together but this morning, I just wanted to watch him. To commit every inch of him to memory. My Jacob, giving Michael Phelps a run for his money, bobbing in the water like a mirage.

Screw this watching crap.

I slid from the chair, a Cheshire smile curving my lips as I tossed my hat behind me. I reached around and unhooked my bikini top, only pausing long enough to shimmy out of my bottoms.

I waded into the water, my eyes locked on the bluest ones I'd ever seen. Blue flames that razed every doubt that this was real to the ground.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, a moan sounding deep inside me as my breasts brushed against the steel of his sun-kissed chest.

I wanted to say something romantic, but I was at a loss for words so close to heaven.

Jacob's fingers threaded through my locks and swept them over one shoulder as he brought me close. His lips brushed against my ear.

"How did I get so damn lucky?"

*

"Leila, can you hear me?!"

"Leila?!"

"LEILA!"

The world swirled and swayed. The candlelight, dim and seductive, had gone from an amber glow to full blast.

Was this part of the session? Maybe Jacob was about to lure me on the balcony. Bind me to the chair and tease me with the sun beating down on our bodies. Make me scream his name.

And speaking of names, why was Jacob screaming mine? Why was his face creased with worry, his eyes round with fear?

"Baby-" The rest got caught somewhere in my throat when I looked to my right. The candles that surrounded the couch had sprouted legs and moved. They were now eye level, the careful weaving of light and dark askew.

There was only light, confusion, because I was no longer on the couch at all. I'd made circles in our Persian rug enough times to know every bump and grove, and now, those bumps and groves were beneath me.

I snapped my attention back to Jacob. The fear in his eyes was edged with relief, but when I gasped, it darted away like a feral animal. Not daring to hope. Not trusting it.

I licked my lips, my hands flying to my belly. Jacob followed suit, his palm resting on top of mine.

I knew the answer, was terrified by it, but I didn't want to freak him out. "Why am I on the floor?" When I saw the panic streak across his usually impassive, guarded face, I did the dumbest thing I could have possibly done.

I made a joke.

"Please tell me you ordered me to play dead."

Not just a joke. A really bad joke.

He let out a sound that told me that under different circumstances, he'd give me a big ol' piece of his mind. "That's not remotely funny, Leila."

The smile I'd forced onto my face evaporated. "The baby..."

But he was already on it, his phone at his ear. His mouth was moving, but the only words I could make out were "blahblahblah".

I couldn't hear anything over the terror.

My hands clutched my belly and I couldn't remember the last time I prayed, but I reached out into the unknown. Begging. Pleading.

Please let the baby be okay. I'll do anything. Just...please...

I stopped clasping my hands together, waiting for divine intervention. I had no reason to breathe again, especially since the baby wasn't being its usual overactive self, tumbling and twerking in my belly, but I lowered my arms to the floor and exhaled. With a tiny grunt, I lifted my head and the rest of me followed as I pulled myself up, my bottom scooting across the rug.

Jacob's back was to me, but the moment he heard the creak, he whirled back to scold me. "Leila-"

"I'm okay," I assured him, ignoring the voice that reminded me that I wasn't a medical professional. I just...knew. "There's no need for an ambulance. I have a feeling my husband's Maserati will get me there twice as fast, anyway."

Jacob's eyes twitched from my face to my belly, then back to my face. Trying to decide if we should wait for the calvary. The operator on the other end was static as I watched his face go hard. Determined.

He didn't say it, but I could read it in those beautiful, powerful angles.

Fuck the calvary.

"Don't move."

Even if he wasn't using his Dom voice, I wouldn't have moved a muscle. Since this, unfortunately, wasn't our first rodeo, I remembered the tips from the doctor. The first was to not move until I was good and ready. And the second-

"Drink this." Jacob brandished a bottle of Gatorade, the lid already popped. He even stood over me, watching me like a hawk until I took several hearty gulps. His face softened as he knelt beside me, his voice as gentle as the fingertips that swept my curls behind my ear. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now," I whispered, leaning into his touch, then turning back to the task at hand when he arched an eyebrow. I took five swallows for both our sakes. "Think I'm ready to try the standing up thing."

"Not so fast."

My heart shot to my throat as he slipped a hand beneath my bottom and roped the other around my shoulders and lifted me from the floor like I weighed nothing at all. Considering I stopped fitting into anything without spandex or an elastic waistband, I knew I definitely wasn't light as a feather, but a flash of self consciousness made me go stiff as a board.

"Be careful, babe!" I warned, futilely trying to shave off a few pounds as I locked my arms around his neck. "Maybe we should call ahead and tell them to reserve the bed beside mine."

He wasn't even breaking a sweat, which would have made another part of me considerably...wet. The last time he'd swept me up and carried me in his arms was after he gave me his last name. The fact that he didn't even dignify my comment with a response was enough to make me swoon. When I met his gaze, I saw the same love, desire, and forever that always burned in those blue flames. A look that always silenced my demons and insecurities and knocked me upside the head, reminding me that I was no consolation prize. That when he looked at me, he saw me—and he’d love me whether I was 500 pounds; whether I wore gowns or sweats, until every curly strand of hair turned gray and beyond.

Until he drew his last breath, Jacob chose me.

I was still drowning in the butterflies that flitted in my belly, almost missing it when he grabbed a fresh Gatorade and paused at the door, practically one arming me so he could grab his wallet and keys.

I nestled against his chest, smirking. "Now you're just showing off."

He tried to mask the beginnings of a smirk of his own. "Hydrate."

I almost saluted, but I decided to take his advice. I reached down towards the V of my bare thighs where the plastic bottle was nestled and-

Wait.

Bare thighs.

Bare naughty bits.

Breasts that were catching fire as I let out a gasp and wriggled from his arms.

"Soo...before we go to the hospital, it may be a good idea to make myself decent.”